


The Fiend In The Basement

by Illusioneery (Arkee)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: A Little Crack Here And There, Cloud as a Kinky Bastard, Kidnapping, Little plot, M/M, No Masamunes Were Harmed In The Making Of This, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkee/pseuds/Illusioneery
Summary: Sephiroth's surprised by the kind of despair Cloud wanted from him.





	The Fiend In The Basement

**Author's Note:**

> An old piece I wrote a couple years ago for a prompt of sorts on Tumblr. Crossposting it here for back up reasons, don't mind me much. Enjoy!

Of all possible outcomes for their fight, Sephiroth never expected to end up tied up to a chair in the basement of Tifa’s bar. He couldn’t even remember how he got there. His last memory was that of him fighting Cloud in the fields not so far from Edge, not so distant from the remains of Midgar (that had once been the center of that world for many and also the house of Shinra, that company filled with so many traitors that did nothing but offer him empty lies). Their swords met in middair, the almost sudden collision sending both of them away from one another, a taunt following with a flap of the dark wing behind him. ( _”You know that this is useless. Surrender to me while you can and perhaps I’ll be gentle the next time I decide to offer you despair.”_ )

Cloud didn’t retort, just smiling almost wickedly at him, suddenly becoming engulfed by a blue aura.  _Omnislash version 5_. Like the last time, he had no time to react by shoving Masamune into the shorter warrior’s chest. Differently from then however, he apparently had blacked out, only to wake up tied to a chair, his coat missing for some unknown reason. He only knew that this had to be Tifa’s bar from the flyer on a wall across from where he was and her presence that he could feel everywhere in that place.

The cuts resulting from their harsh encounter were slowly healing with a tickling feeling, a light burn that seemed to further blossom into sensation as he recovered his awareness.

He tried to break free from whatever was bounding him to that stupid chair, his annoyance in failing for some reason showing off as low groans.  _Damn it_. It was worse than being sent back to the Lifestream (again). There wasn’t much to do except wait for Jenova knows how long.

Which turned out to be a very short, five minutes wait.

Cloud opened the sole door of the place, bringing with him a riding crop (Which was really worrisome). He was still dressed the way Sephiroth had found him; in charming biking gear, leathers that fitted him in ways that were pleasant looking even though the silver haired man wouldn’t like to admit aloud.

“Well, look who’s awake.” He said in a mocking tone. Sephiroth barely had time to reply, and as he was about to do so the blond man grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look straight into blue eyes tainted with a familiar mako glow and  _something else_. He had never seen that  _something else_  in the eyes of the enemy. It was confusing. “You were right all along, you know that? About killing you being useless. So I thought about keeping you as my prisoner… for the time being.” Cloud said and there was a hint of darkness in his voice that was almost admirable. Sephiroth tried to bite him as the hand holding his jaw drew away, only to taste the leather of the crop. “Oh oh oh, no biting.”

The silver haired man decided he hated being a prisoner of this chocobo like figure of an archnemesis.

“You see, as long as I keep you under my watch instead of sending you back to the Lifestream… I won’t have to worry about you coming back when I less expect.” The tip of the crop danced dangerously against the taller man’s cheek. “It’s a nice plan now that I think about it… even though I don’t like to admit, thank you for the idea.”

The way the words were almost purred at him made Sephiroth confused, but he retorted a “You’re welcome” in a smug tone.

Only to have the crop be used for its intended purpose, which resulted in a burning sensation that didn’t feel light at all.

“When did I say that you could speak, hm? I don’t remember doing that.”

He never liked being given pointless orders or having his control swept away from him, but there was something about Cloud and that riding crop that made him confused and to his complete horror, slightly turned on.

“You’re lucky that I’m tied up like this, otherwise you’d be savoring the despair traitors like you deserve.”

The crop hit him again, harder, just over a recently healed cut across his chest, which managed to steal a whimper out of him. Was that punishment for what he had done? (Was it because of the Geostigma? Because of that annoying girl who wished to stop Meteor? Because of him coming back a fourth time?) He didn’t quite get it. Cloud was more about finishing him off and putting him to sleep in nothing but green, not about torture or despair; maybe despair was just the right world, yes.

Another sharp lash landed, bringing white-hot pain along with it. A third followed in quick succession. Then it stopped and he dared to look at the blond while the burning sensation spread, trying to keep a straight face despite what he had just been submitted to.

“Is this the best you can do?” He offered as though that treatment had been nothing. Sephiroth had always been good in concealing, anyway.

Cloud ignored his question, marveling at the bright red marks he had left. A part of him that wanted to push his anger aside and just proceed to realize his teenager wet dreams (to his complete indignation and he had noticed just then how much of a pretty picture Sephiroth made like that) became too insistent all of sudden.

It was such a strange feeling, wanting to have his way with the enemy. And yet, that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“You make a prettier picture like this than that stupidly long sword of yours.” Cloud teased. Oh, this could be fun.

“What about my sword?” Sephiroth seemed confused. His archnemesis just offered him… a lustful look and a malicious grin, while humming thoughtfully. Okay.

Except that it was not okay.

“What did you  _do_  to my sword?” He wished he could’ve prevented himself from sounding so desperate about it, but that was Masamune; one of the few things that could have him all concerned, even though he could summon the blade out of thin air.

“Let’s just say that a guy can enjoy a sword’s hilt in more ways other than fighting. Hmm, and it can hurt good when it’s not shoved in my chest.”

Cloud hadn’t, of course. The hilt was too large and he wasn’t willing to try. Besides, why would he do that, anyway? Of course, he had his time alone earlier. But it didn’t involve swords at all. Masamune had taken too many lives, he wasn’t going to shove that up his ass any time soon. He just wanted to mess around with the one who had done a lot to somewhat break him mentally more than once.

“How dare y—  _Why my sword?_ ”

“And why not?”

Sephiroth groaned.

“I  _hate_  you.” He snarled.

“The feeling is mutual, Sephiroth.” He still hated the man and yet, what he wanted to do… He circled the chair, pondering that. Tifa could wander downstairs to check if he was alright and catch him losing himself entirely. She would never trust him again after seeing that side of him. This whole idea was stupidly dangerous, but on another hand, he was in  _riding gear,_ and had a _riding crop._ “Hm, it’s strange…”

“What is?”

The tip of the crop caressed his shoulder lightly. Sephiroth didn’t do light or gentle so this was annoying. Cloud walking around him and deciding to take a seat on his lap was also an annoyance. Not that the blond was heavy or anything. It just made him confused. Other than gentle treatment, confusion was another thing he didn’t like. He frowned, turned his gaze away (because staring made the confusion worse) and waited an answer.

“I think I want that despair you were saying you wanted to give me before.”

_What?_

Of all possible outcomes, he never expected… this. Maybe it was his lucky day, he thought, yet very confused.

“Very well, then. Do as you please.”

Sephiroth had no idea just yet what he was consenting to, but didn’t protest either when pieces of clothing started to be removed, the ridiculous amount of leather involved sliding free from both of them in a short amount of time.

When he was fighting Cloud before, all he expected was to possibly corrupt him (maybe for good, at last) and maybe make him his knight in the great scheme of things (which involved using the Planet as his vessel to travel the Cosmos and beyond). Perhaps there would be stabbing and resistance or even another visit to the Lifestream — which didn’t matter much as long as he had means of returning — but not… well,  _that_.

He didn’t know why he was allowing the blond swordsman to do that, but wasn’t protesting either. His motivations for doing so looked like a messed up web of reasons and he wasn’t quite sure if it was because of the harsh treatment he got with that riding crop (which lied on the floor, entirely forgotten) or if it was for the way Cloud’s leather clothes clung to him; with the jacket being the only thing that remained at this point or if it was simply because it felt  _oh, so good_. It could be everything combined, too. He just had no protests to voice about Cloud riding him like it was an important business.

All because Cloud — who seemed too confident about everything at first — was having a hard time taking his length in without looking like he was in some sort of despair each time his hips rolled, after he had just risen a little from the silver haired man’s lap. Yet, Sephiroth remained confused. Of course, he wanted to give this chocobo headed man all the despair he could offer, but not  _that_  kind of despair.

Yet there he was, tied up and unable to dig marks onto pale skin. Cloud braced himself with both hands on the former General’s legs, refusing to go for the shoulders so he could keep his distance and avoid being bitten; his head tilted back while he made a mess out of himself.

Sephiroth almost longed for someone to walk in on them and witness the shameful display that this so called  _Planet’s hero_  had made of himself.  _A beautiful, shameful, whimpering display_. It could be possible as none of them was holding back those obscene little noises. However, even though Cloud had stopped being coherent a while before and had pretty much abandoned all common sense to almost scream his name in a broken voice, nobody came.

Cloud just kept going, impaling himself on something that wasn’t a sword. The silver haired man never knew that such a day would come in which he would shove something inside the blond that wasn’t a blade. Or rather than that, that the smaller man would choose to stab himself willingly. It was just… very confusing.

He wasn’t aware of how long had passed since Cloud’s initial protest of “Oh my gods… it’s too big… nngh…” The only thing he knew was that he was on the edge himself, half lidded eyes watching as the sweat made its way down the blond’s body as Cloud moved; his ups and downs growing in intensity and taking less time to happen, while Sephiroth tried to thrust up (but being tied to a chair didn’t help much.)

“… _Cloud_.” He purred, voice too breathy for his own good. “…Is this… hng… the despair you wanted?”

Cloud moaned in response, then nodded a single time.  _Gaia_. “Oh, fuck… yes.” He managed to confirm through his lack of coherence as though the way he was rolling his hips (angling himself so every single time he brought his hips down that perfect spot inside him would be hit) wasn’t enough confirmation of that.

“Cloud…” What was that, exactly? A plea? A warning? Sephiroth was too lost in the white-haze to know.

But he was aware of the exact moment the blond half screamed his name before shooting hot, thick seed all over his chest. Even though he was on edge, that was hard to miss, what with the way the smaller man clenched around him.

However, even though he was done, Cloud kept going, milking him through his own, upcoming release, savoring every drop of that before slowing to a halt, becoming nothing but a panting mess against Sephiroth’s shoulder.

It seemed to be nothing but a miracle that the chair hadn’t fallen over.

“I am… confused.” Sephiroth murmured, voice a little less breathier than it was before as he slowly recovered from that encounter. “Since when have we gone from sword fighting to you getting impaled by my dick?” There was a note of teasing in his voice.

“I don’t know—… Wait a second… did you… just make a sex pun?”  _With swords. What the heck_ , Cloud thought. “No, don’t answer… just shut up.”

The former General hummed, thoughtfully but yet confused. His nemesis eventually left his lap, only to do some quick cleaning (just in case someone else wandered down the basement) before dressing up again and leaving. He had forgotten the crop in his rush, the silver haired man noted, even though he couldn’t reach the damned thing still tied up on that chair. Maybe Cloud would return to pick that up later.

Sephiroth stayed on his chair, prevented from doing anything else but waiting. He was still very confused.


End file.
